


It Started on a Fredas

by A_Midwinter_Night_Dream86



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Comedy, Double Life, Dovahzul, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Midwinter_Night_Dream86/pseuds/A_Midwinter_Night_Dream86
Summary: A day at the College of Winterhold with Jolinar Aren results in flying toast, visits from dragons, and shenanigans. All because the Arch Mage slept in."ONMUND!"Yep, just another day.





	It Started on a Fredas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello!  
> I've never posted here before, but I figured, what the heck? Right? It's very organized and versatile here and that's always brilliant. 
> 
> I wrote this story a few years ago and it was the first one I posted on FFN. I figured it'd be a good first one for this place, too. I hardly know what I'm doing here, though, but you don't learn unless you step out, right? So, without further ado, here's Jolinar.

~I~

  
   The sun was shining, birds were singing, woodland animals were frolicking, and water was running merrily down the stream and into the lake situated between the Great Pine Forest and the snowcapped mountains. It was truly a beautiful day.

   At the top of one of the three towers of the manor home--Lakeview Manor--stood the dark elven woman, blonde hair gently ruffled by the light summer breeze. She smiled happily, imaging a swim in the lake later, happily freezing the slaughter fish and sending them flying over the waters like skipping stones. Maybe afterwards, she would get that illusion book her brother had given her and read it atop the library tower by the light of that enchanted pink glow ball her uncle had sent her.

   It was so very nice that they could be one big happy family!

   Jolinar Telvanni neglected to remember how Brandyl and Neloth would argue over trivial matters and how things tended to catch fire when the two were in the same vicinity.

   She sighed, the chirping of birds in the air, the singing of the waters over stones, the whistling of the wind in the trees, the rush of dragon's wings--

   Her dark red eyes opened wide.

   "OI! AREN! WAKE UP!" The bright red dragon Shouted at her before crashing into her house--her house!

   "Mistress Aren, you're late for your lecture," the dragon said as the house smoldered and burnt about Jolinar's ears. "Mistress Aren? Jolinar!"

   The dark elf started--and nearly head-butted the Dragonborn.

   Leara Ormand stepped back and crossed her arms. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked slowly.

   Jolinar rubbed her head, eyes, face, and neck before looking at the half-elf. The smooth planes of her face and the ever so slight narrowness of her eyes told the Dunmer that the Mistress of Destruction theory and trainer in ice magic was not in a mood to be tested.

   So of course, she tested her.

   "I'd say I missed breakfast, but you don't look like you've eaten."

   A slight twitch of a nose told Jolinar that she was in icy waters. Well, other than the icy waters over a thousand feet below them in the Sea of Ghosts, that is.

   "I have not, thank you; I was gathering your students together for the lecture."

   Jolinar wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the strange accent of Leara Ormand. Then the Altmer's words registered in her head.

   "GREAT GALLOPING GAURS!" She yelled, jumping up. "THAT'S TODAY? BY AZURA..."

   "Mistress Aren..." Leara tried, but it was too late. Jolinar Aren had run out of the Archmagister's chambers in naught but her pink woolen trousers and white night shirt.

   Leara sighed. This was going to be a long day.

  
~II~

  
   "...and that, students, is why the School of Mysticism was absorbed into the other colleges of magic here at the College," Jolinar concluded before turning to face her group. It was far from the usual crowd of eager mages in training scrawling notes and hanging upon her every word. Usually, Jolinar prided herself with being able to captivate a crowd, something her associates in Riften regularly commented on. However, this time, they all seemed to be staring at her, mouths agape. Some mortified, some trying to hide laughter behind their hands, and some laughing out right.

   She had had enough.

   "I understand that Ka'Razha's use of Mysticism to turn the entirety of the college's bridge into a writhing serpent is horrific, but I do not understand your laughter!"

   "Mistress Aren," Brelyna Maryon said tentatively. Jolinar turned to face the much younger dark elf, remembering that she was from an off branch of the House of Telvanni.

"   Yes Brelyna? What is it?"

   "Ma'am...it's just...you're in your night clothes..."

    J'zargosuddenly burst out into riotous cackles. "J'zargo has to wonder if Mistress Aren even knew that!"

   Jolinar's face heated up, her hair stood on end, and a stray lightning spark slipped from her hand and zapped J'zargo on the tail, causing the Khajiit to yelp.

   "Brelyna, I want you to go help Master Gestor with whatever project he is working on."

   "Yes ma'am," the young Dunmer squeaked, grabbing up her parchment, quills, and ink and stuffing them into her bag before scurrying off the find the Master Conjurer.

   "The rest of you--!" Jolinar yelled as the rest of the apprentices tried to scurry out after Brelyna, "--will write me an essay two feet in length on Artaeum and the origins of Mysticism."

   Everyone mumbled their consent.

   "It'll be due one week from today."

   A smirk played on the Archmagister's ever pink lips as the group of apprentices groaned in protest as she left the Hall of the Elements.

  
~III~

   
   Dressed now in her pink, blue, and silver Arch Mage's robes, Jolinar sat in the Arcanaeum writing a letter to her brother.

   'Really _Brandy_ ,' she wrote, ' _I should be glad that it was only my night clothes; there are worse things that could have happened. But the Dragonborn had to wake me up! They had to send someone to get me! I never over sleep! Does that mean that I--we--are getting old? If we're getting old, that means Uncle is getting ancient! Well, he is ancient, but still..._ '

   "What do you mean he wants you to write his biography?"

   Jolinar looked up to see Faralda and Leara, each carrying a stack of books, and talking--gossiping--as if they were school girls.

   "I don't know! I was visiting the court in Solitude when suddenly he walked up to me, tried out a horrible pickup line that went out of use when my grandmother was still in the cradle, and suddenly insisted that I write his whole life story down!"

   "I'd say this Erikur fellow has a lot of nerve," Faralda huffed, putting her stack of books on Leara's to open the door for the shorter elf.

   "Thank you," Leara said as Faralda took back her stack. "I told him that if he wanted me to write his life story, he'd have to appeal to the High King."

   "I bet he wet himself."

   "Actually, I think he did."

   Jolinar blinked as the Mistresses of Lightning and Ice Destruction moved further away, their animated chatter moving with them.

   What in the name of Moonshadow was that about...?

  
~IV~

  
   Jolinar smiled, sitting down at the hard oak table. The college's kitchens and dining room were in the chambers beneath the Hall of the Elements, access being granted from said hall by a winding staircase along the circular stone wall. The smell of warm goat cheese smothered on barley bread and the scent of honeyed mead caused her mouth to water.

    Afternot eating breakfast, she was quite eager to eat lunch.

   As Jolinar brought the cheese toast to her mouth, a smoky red aura surrounded it and it suddenly floated away!

   Jolinar jumped to grab it, however, she missed. Though she did end up spilling her mead down the front of her favorite Arch Mage robes.

   Growling, the dark elf looked up from her spilled beverage to see her toast making its way up the stairs. She started sprinting after it, causing everyone else in the dining area to turn and look at her.

   Her father had always told her not to play with her food. He'd be rolling in his grave if he saw her playing tag with it in his college.

    Stormingup the stairs, blonde hair sizzling with electricity, Jolinar's flaming red eyes quickly saw the culprit--Onmund, the dratted Nord!--sitting atop the stone steps.

   In his hands was her cheesy toast--and he'd BITTEN it!

   "ONMUND!" she snapped, startling the Nord and causing him to drop the cheese covered toast. It fell down the side of steps and into the depths of a barrel of cabbages pushed up against the stairs.

   "Ma'am, I mean, Mistress Aren, I mean, Jolinar--I, I mean--Archmagister!" he blubbered.

   "You took my toast."

   "I, I thought it was J, J, J'zar--"

   "You TOOK my toast!"

   "Er, yes ma'am, er Archmagister, ma'am..."

   "I want you to go scrub the statue in the courtyard until I can see my reflection well enough to apply my lip balm!"

   "Aye ma'am, yes ma'am...!"

   "Without magic!"

    "Ma'am yes Archmagister--ma'am!" Onmund continued to fumble about. Normally this would amuse Jolinar, but right now she was too hungry to appreciate the comedy of the situation.

   "Now!"

   The Nord sorcerer scrambled away and the dark elf watched him go before turning back down towards the dining chambers.

   She needed to change, but right after she ate lunch.

  
~V~

   
   Once she had eaten her second attempt at lunch and changed into her second set of robes (this time in pink, gold, and more pink), Jolinar went to the Hall of the Elements to observe Leara and Faralda's joint Destruction lecture.

   But after one apprentice's hair caught fire, another electrocuted himself, and a third froze his and two other's eyebrows off, Jolinar decided that it would be best to leave. Besides, Destruction wasn't her forte, it was Illusion, and she didn't need to give another Illusion lecture until Tolfdir returned with a group of apprentices from some Dwemer ruin to the south.

   She suddenly hoped that she wouldn't have to send Leara, Faralda, and a few Destruction apprentices to retrieve them. For one, she wasn't sure if they'd be able to take care of the automatons without burning or freezing their own robes off. For another, she trusted Tolfdir despite that crazy stunt with the Eye of Magnus a few years back.

   Jolinar stepped outside to see Onmund scrubbing away at the statue, icicles having formed on his robes and in his hair. She walked over and peered at the surface.

   "Not good enough, Onmund," she said suddenly, startling the apprentice.

   He slid down the stone mage's robe and fell into a heap at her feet.

   "Yes ma'am! Sorry ma'am!" He said, rolling over frantically to get back at the statue with his little grey cleaning cloth.

   "Good, keep up the nice work," she said encouragingly. Because Jolinar wasn't a mean elf, she was just cranky and a little ticked off.

   Once she was sure that Onmund was scrubbing away at the statue, Jolinar went to the Hall of Attainment. After a little poking about, she found Enthir shuffling through a dusty tome.

   "Do I want to know where you got that from?" she asked, leaning in the doorway.

   "Of course you do, Guild Master."

   "Are you going to tell me, though?"

   "Of course not, Archmagister."

   "Of course," Jolinar mimicked. She entered the room to stand at the end of Enthir's bed. "Do I have any mail?" she inquired.

   The wood elf silently tossed the dark elf a parchment envelope. She sniffed it. The smell of wet dog and ale bombarded her nostrils and she had to fight the urge to gag.

   "Did they say what they wanted?"

   "Only that they need you to look over that broken axe of theirs to make sure it won't shatter."

   "Really," Jolinar said thoughtfully, why did it have to be her of all people...

   Oh yes, because she was Arch Mage and the 'greatest authority on magic and enchantment' in Skyrim.

   Suddenly she was quite glad that High King Ulfric had Leara Ormand and Wuunferth the Unliving in his court, else she'd have to add Windhelm to her regular circuit of Winterhold--Riften--the Manor--Solitude--explore.

   "Thanks Enthir," she said, though it seemed that he was absorbed back into his book.

   Deciding that she really didn't want to know its origin, she left him to his reading.

  
~VI~

  
   When Jolinar emerged on to the flat balcony like roof of the Hall of Attainment, she breathed a happy sigh. She loved the crisp cold air up there at the top of the college's towers; it reminded her of when her father and Alana Ever-fair would train her in Destruction or Illusion. Although she quickly gave up Destruction in favor of Alchemy, and later that for the magic of Nocturnal, she still held dear those memories.

  , Suddenly the flap of heavy wings on the wind shook her out of her memories and alerted Jolinar to the approach of a dragon.

   A spell to summon her ebony bow glittered across her fingers as the dragon began to circle overhead. Down below, Onmund fell off the statue again and a couple of apprentices scrambled into the main tower, trampling one another and screaming.

   By the time Leara Ormand, her strange moonstone and amber blade on her hip, entered the courtyard, the dragon was significantly closer and Jolinar had an arrow notched and ready to fly. She awaited only the Dragonborn's signal.

   "Odahviing, quit scaring my students!" The half-elf admonished gently, though loudly.

   Odahviing...? Oh.

   The red dragon landed amongst the dead bushes before the gates in the courtyard.

   "Krosis, Peyttuz," he rumbled. "The old one wishes to tinvaak voth hi, to speak with you."

   "About what?" Leara asked curiously.

"Wo vis sag?"

   Leara sighed. "Only he." She then climbed up on to the great red dragon and nestled between his shoulders.

   Jolinar watched, mouth dropped to the floor, as the Destruction Mistress flew away on a dragon.

   Well, she was also the Dragonborn, maybe that explained it...

  
~VII~

  
   Jolinar walked around the perimeter of the courtyard, watching as a group of apprentices, including Brelyna Maryon, practiced summoning weapons--axes, swords, bows, and the like. She came to a halt next to Phinis Gestor, the Conjuration Master.

   "Is it truly wise to have them all summoning those kinds of things right here in the courtyard?" she asked, watching as one of the apprentices almost cut Onmund's head off just as he was scrubbing away the last of the icy dirt from the statue.

   "Eeeaaaakkkk!" he screamed, diving around the base of the statue.

"Sorry!"

   Phinis shrugged. "It was either weapons here or atronachs on the roof of the main tower. The last time we did that, one of the apprentices almost fell over the edge when a flame atronach exploded."

   "Oh, yes, I was away when that happened."

   "Let me just say, Mistress Ormand was not happy retrieving the books and parchment from the ice ridge below."

   "I'd bet," Jolinar said thoughtfully before nodding to the Conjuration Master and continuing her circuit.

   She again stopped next to the statue where an ice covered Onmund was scrubbing the foot of the mage, arm jerking and body twitching. He stopped when she came to stand next to him.

   "Archmagister."

   "Onmund."

   She took out a small container of bright pink lip balm, unscrewed the top, and swiped a long blue finger over the sweet smelling surface. Peering into the bright reflective surface, she applied the makeup as the frozen Nord sat there, twitching. After studying her reflection, Jolinar nodded. "Top notch job, Onmund, go inside and take a bath."

   "Yes ma'am!" he cried before running off to the Hall of Countenance, under which the bathing chambers were located.

   Jolinar watched him go before pulling out her handkerchief and wiping her face. Gah! She hated the snowberry flavored lip balm; the watermelon one from Cyrodiil was much more suited to her tastes.

   "Ah! What'd you do that for?"

   Jolinar turned to see that someone had accidentally made Master Gestor two feet tall and turned him...purple?

   "Mistress Aren!" several people called out, including the now squeaky sounding voice of the Breton Conjuror.

   Not knowing whether to sigh or to laugh, Jolinar made her way towards the group, ready to reverse whatever halfwit spell was cast.

  
~VIII~

  
   The groups of apprentices and teachers mulled about the dining room, getting their dinner and conversing amongst themselves. Jolinar watched them all from her special Arch Mage table, her dinner already laid out before her.

   Once everyone was seated, Jolinar let go a small spark, which exploded into a small pink firework, gaining everyone's attention.

   "Good evening, my fellow mages," the Archmagister began. "I would like to take this time to congratulate you all on the completion of another full week of magic and training here at the College of Winterhold. Now, apprentices, tomorrow is Loredas and, as you know, the first of your two days off from classes. Spend them wisely, your overall examinations to see whether you will proceed to the various levels of higher training or not are next month and I do not want any of you to fail. Good luck!"

   On that cheery note, everyone began to eat. Of course, Jolinar herself was looking forward to a long weekend weeding her ingredients garden and trying--again--to make sure that the plants made it through another season. She wouldn't have time to enjoy her Fredas night and the weekend.

   As she munched on her goat leg, Jolinar watched the crowd of students and teachers, many talking animatedly with each other on their preferred magic schools. She was quite pleased to hear several speaking highly of Illusion and her and Drevis Neloren, though there were also several highly interested in Leara and Faralda's teachings on ice and lightning oriented Destruction. That reminded her; she really needed to find a fire oriented Destruction Master. There was only so much the two Altmer could teach of an element not their own.

   She was also quite aware that their Illusion interest was more due to her than Master Neloren. He was always more grouchy and snappish about...everything. Her? She was a pretty mellow mage. Most of the time.

   Sipping her snowberry wine, Jolinar grimaced. How often did she have to voice her distaste of snowberries? Not often enough, apparently.

  
~IX~

  
   After dinner and after a bath and after using an old Alteration spell to copy a 'barrowed' book from Urag gro-Shub, Jolinar skipped up to her chambers. Leara Ormand still wasn't back, though she and everyone else didn't expect her to return until Sundas, at the earliest.

   Yawning, the Dunmer face planted her bed, stripped of her robes and cocooned in a pink night dress and a fluffy cotton robe.

   "Jolinar! I've been waiting for hours!"

   With a mangled screech, the dark elven mage rolled off her bed and onto the fuzzy carpet. She blinked up at the ceiling in a daze as a beautiful, dark haired Nord woman stepped into her line of sight, her red eyes twinkling merrily.

   "Serana..." Jolinar moaned, squeezing her own darker red eyes shut. She had totally forgotten that the vampire was coming to the college to stay with her over the weekend. Go figure.

   "How are you?" Serana asked politely, pulling the taller woman to her feet quite easily.

   "Never better," Jolinar replied dryly, straightening her clothes. "You?"

   "Well, mother is redecorating the castle and I almost got turned to ash by a crazy red dragon--" Odahviing, Jolinar thought, "--but I'm good." Serana smiled at her favorite mortal friend. "Some crazy lady was riding him. I'm pretty sure that they were arguing, too."

   "That'd be the Dragonborn."

   "Ah, that makes sense," Serana nodded before frowning. "So are we going or what?"

   "What?" Jolinar asked, going blank.

   "Going? You know, to Riften! You told me in your letter that the next time we met up that you'd introduce me to your associates in the--!"

   "Oh yes, that letter!" Jolinar cried, cutting Serana off. "Yes, why don't we, ya know, travel there in the morning?"

   "But Jolinar--!"

   "Serana..."

   "Jolinar!"

   "Fine!"

   By Azura and Nocturnal, sometimes she really hated spending time with that vampire!

  
~X~

  
   After riding Jolinar's horse Lawrence to Windhelm, paying for his board at the Windhelm stables, and hiring a carriage, it was already passed noon of the next day. At this rate, Jolinar was going to miss the classes restarting on Morndas, maybe even the scheduled Restoration lectures on Tirdas! Colette Marence was going to have her pretty blonde and blue head on a pike.

   It was around midnight when they finally reached Riften. No matter how she had tried, Jolinar couldn't fall asleep, not with the steady movement and bump squeak lurch of the carriage along the road and Serana's uncommonly animated chatter. With heavy lids and a persistent yawn, Jolinar found herself stumbling out of the carriage. Then Serana, ever full of energy, dragged the sleepy dark elf into the southern city. Being situated on a lake and in the ever beautiful Fall Forest, one would think that Riften would be an ideal place, especially for vacations and real estate and such. No, with the rat infested undercity, thieves lurking behind every door, and the canal running through the center of the city and offering up very unpleasant smells, Riften was more the Slum of Skyrim then anything.

   Jolinar loved it.

   "So, where do we go?" Serana asked, frowning. They had been to Riften several times while going back and forth to Fort Dawnguard, but only ever passingly. The Daughter of Coldharbor was getting quite interested in her companion's knowledge of the place, especially the undercity.

   Stifling a yawn, Jolinar trudged towards Riftweald Manor. Call her fancy, call her crazy, call her cheap, call her any number of things, but living in that rickety old house (and fixing some of the ricks and teys), even after all that happened, was kinda okay. Plus--

   "Great gaurs, Eran!"

   Jolinar smiled at Brand-Shei, who stood on the threshold of the house.

   "Aren?" Serana asked. "Your surname?"

   "No, Eran, Erandyl Telvanni," Jolinar shot back over her shoulder at the vampire before turning back to her twin. "Hi!"

   Brand-Shei sighed. "It's nearly one in the morning."

   "Why are you up?"

   "No, why are you up?"

   "I asked first."

   "I'm the oldest."

   "Says who?"

   "Uncle!"

   "Uncle can't even make his own tea, much less tell which of us is older!"

  Brand-Shei  scowled at her good naturedly before turning to Serana. "Brand-Shei," he said by way of greeting as Jolinar pushed passed him into the house.

   "Serana," she returned.

   "Brandy Brandyl Brand-Shei, has Brynjolf dropped off my spell tome?" Came Jolinar's sleepy sing song voice from inside where she stood poking at a heavy laden bookshelf.

   "It's on the coffee table," he said, ignoring his sister's sleepy tirade.

   Jolinar wandered into the living room, missed the coffee table, and face planted the couch. Seconds later, a loud snore rattled the room.

   The other Dunmer and the vampire stood in the doorway staring at her.

   "How long was she awake?"

   "Since, uh, Fredas morning, I think."

   "Yeah, she's out of it."

   On the couch, Jolinar rolled over, dreams of watermelon lip balm and pruning the Alchemy garden dancing in her head.


End file.
